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it was my first doll that water went into and water came out of much earlier it was the diaper I wore and the dirt thereof and my mother hating me for it

Anne Sexton

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Anne Sexton
Age: 45 †
Born: 1928
Born: November 9
Died: 1974
Died: October 4
Poet
Writer
Newton
Massachusetts
Anne Gray Harvey
Came
Diapers
Water
Hating
Hate
Dolls
Mother
Wore
Firsts
Earlier
First
Dirt
Diaper
Much
Childhood
Thereof
Went
Doll

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To die whole, riddled with nothing but desire for it, is like breakfast after love.
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Let God be some tribal female who is known but forbidden.
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The town is silent. The night boils with eleven stars. Oh starry starry night! This is how I want to die.
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One of my secret instructions to myself as a poet is Whatever you do, don't be boring.
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I remember the stink of the liverwurst. How I was put on a platter and laid between the mayonnaise and the bacon. The rhythm of the refrigerator had been disturbed.
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For forty days, for forty nights Jesus put one foot in front of the other and the man he carried, if it was a man, became heavier and heavier.
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There is rust in my mouth,the stain of an old kiss.
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think of innocent Icarus who is doing quite well: larger than a sail, over the fog and the blast of the plushy ocean, he goes. Admire his wings!
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My faith is a great weight hung on a small wire, as doth the spider hang her baby on a thin web.
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There is an animal inside me, clutching fast to my heart, a huge crab.
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Nature is full of teeth that come in one by one, then decay, fall out.
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As for me, I am a watercolor. I wash off.
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I who was a house full of bowel movement, I who was a defaced altar, I who wanted to crawl toward God could not move nor eat bread.
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I am so imperfect, can you love me when really my soul is deformed? Will you love me anyhow?
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I see myself as one would see another. I have been cut in two.
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And what of the dead? They lie without shoes in the stone boats. They are more like stone than the sea would be if it stopped. They refuse to be blessed, throat, eye and knucklebone.
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The trouble with therapy is that it makes life go backwards.
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No matter whose bed you die in the bed will be yours for your voyage onto the surgical andiron of God.
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